


Helping Hands

by ChaosDemon1129



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Some blood maybe, no relationships - Freeform, the whole team being friends to reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosDemon1129/pseuds/ChaosDemon1129
Summary: Even if you're on a team of highly skilled people intent on protecting the world and you put on a brave face for those around you and to the world, you can still feel sad or mad or just plain tired. When those feelings hit and you're at your lowest, you know that someone will be there for you, even if you don't think so at first. Someone who will protect you and say that everything will be okay.After all, everyone needs a helping hand.





	1. Sorrow, Tracer

**Author's Note:**

> You were certainly not alright as you curled up in the fetal position behind a few large boxes of supplies, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed. You were tucked away in a random supply room of the base, hopefully far enough away that none of your teammates could find you. You had squirreled yourself away after you had received the news. It hit you hard and, even though you put on a brave face for your team, you found yourself here.

You accepted the letter from home with a smile of thanks to Winston and pushed away your tray of food. You ripped it open and scanned the contents and felt the blood drain from your face. You read it once again and you felt it fall from your hands, your breath coming in short, quick bursts. 

You heard your name being called, the word sounding as if the speaker was underwater. Or maybe you were. The feeling of ice spreading throughout your stomach and into your limbs certainly felt like it. Another call, this time nearly a shout, broke you from your trance and you looked up into the face of the visorless Soldier: 76. 

“You alright, soldier?” He asked, his eyes soft and his mouth set into a frown. You forced a smile onto your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah.” You looked around the room to see the slightly confused faces of your team staring at you. You stood up from the table and quietly started to make your way from the cafeteria. “I’m alright.”

~*~

You were certainly not alright as you curled up in the fetal position behind a few large boxes of supplies, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed. You were tucked away in a random supply room of the base, hopefully far enough away that none of your teammates could find you. You had squirreled yourself away after you had received the news. It hit you hard and, even though you put on a brave face for your team, you found yourself here. A brief and tearful request to Athena made sure that the AI didn’t alert anyone to your state or your whereabouts. Another fit of sobs hit you and you cried harder, curling even tighter into a ball to make yourself as small as you could.

Footsteps hit your ears and you smashed a hand over your mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sobs still wracking your body. You heard the steps wander slowly towards your hiding place and then past. You were almost in the clear before a whimper slipped past your lips. While normally too quiet to hear, the relatively empty room and quiet atmosphere made it seem as loud as a gunshot. The steps stilled.

“‘Ello? Anyone here?” The telltale cockney accent gave away who it was and you desperately wished for her to go away. It was hopeless and you heard Tracer walk closer to you. You curled up even tighter as you whimpered again. You felt more than heard a soft sigh from the bubbly woman as a hand placed itself on your back and slowly started to rub circles into your back. 

“It’s alright.” Came the quiet coo and you broke, sobs bursting from your mouth as Tracer sat next to you. “Let it all out, luv.”

A few minutes later and your tears ran dry, the sobs slowly stopping. You hiccuped once or twice before you uncurled yourself and sat up. You sent a shy glance at Tracer before looking back down at your lap. 

“‘m sorry.” You quietly apologized, a strong feeling of shame and embarrassment spreading through your body. The quiet reassurance dispelled it. 

“Don’t be sorry, luv. Everyone needs a good cry now and again.” Tracer smiled softly, a far cry from the near manic grin that she wore on the field. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you slowly leaned your head down onto her shoulder. “You want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head and the two of you fell into silence. You felt Tracer rest her chin atop your head and you shivered. A tear slipped down your cheek. A pressure built up in your chest. You started to cry again.

“M-my dad died.” You started, your voice shaky. Tracer’s other arm wrapped around you in a hug. “He di-... he passed away from i-illness and I... I just... He’s always b-been there, you know? A-and now-.” 

You cut yourself off as you started to sob again, bigger than the ones before and you curled up tight, nearly climbing on top of your teammate’s lap. Tracer hugged you tighter and started to quietly whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you cried. 

Flashes of you and your father flashed through you mind. Memories of better times. Warm summer days and cold winter nights spent with your family. The memory of receiving the news of the cancer that had been found in your father. An aggressive strain that had no cure, despite the miracles that modern medicine had made. Visits to the hospital where he was staying at. And then just this afternoon, when you received the news from home. No one else had read the letter, though by how fast you felt the blood drain from your face back in the cafeteria it probably wasn’t too hard to figure out that something bad had happened. 

“You feeling better there, luv?” Tracer asked quietly as your sobs halted. You nodded against her neck and snuggled tighter to her, feeling the warmth of your shared body heat spread through the two of you. Exhaustion quickly flooded your body and sleep slowly overcame you as you felt yourself being picked up.

~*~

You woke up in your own bed, a shaft of sunlight shining across your face. You slowly sat up and stretched and deeply breathed in, the events from last night fresh in your mind. The smell of fresh cookies a filled your nose and you glanced at your nightstand. A plate of the pastries sat there along with a note.

A simple drawing of Tracer and you was there, hand-in-hand and both shooting shining smiles outwards. A small chuckle left you as you bit into a cookie as you got ready for the day. 

If your team thought it odd that you stuck close to Tracer during missions for months afterwards, viciously protecting her, they didn’t ask.


	2. Anxiety, Soldier: 76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t notice that your breath was coming faster and faster, cold sweat breaking out everywhere and your stomach feeling like a hurricane was roiling around inside. You dashed out of the main room of the ship and into one of the bathrooms. The acrid taste of bile rose up into your throat and out of your mouth to violently empty itself into the toilet. The puke splashed into the bowl and filled the room with its stench, which only sent you off into another session of heaving and puking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by KiloMeow.

You felt your stomach give an uncomfortable jerk and you ran to the bathroom to dry heave over your toilet for a moment. Shaking slightly, you walked over to your bed and fell down face first onto the soft mattress.

You had only been at Overwatch for about a month and you were about to be sent on your first mission with them. 

Which happened to be your first mission _ever_. 

What the hell was your country thinking, sending a soldier straight out of boot camp to work with the reformed and only slightly illegal organization. You let out a shaky breath as a steady knock came from the door.

“Dinner in ten.” Came the familiar growl of Soldier: 76 before heavy bootsteps trailed down the hall, no doubt to find the other agents. You let out a shaky breath and sat up before you slipped on some worn sneakers. You glanced at a mirror hanging on the wall and shrugged at the sweatpants and hoodie that you had on, figuring that it was fine.

A minute later and you were in the cafeteria, a solid wall of noise hitting you as you entered the room, despite the small number of people that were actually there. Reinhardt laughed uproariously as McCree told a joke while Hanzo sighed next to him. You smiled a little at the familiar sight before you grabbed a tray from one of the bots in the kitchen. You snagged a piece of slightly rubbery chicken and mashed potatoes from the containers down the line and made your way to an empty table and sat in silence.

An attempt to eat the food proved unfruitful and you pushed the tray away with a sigh, your hands only slightly trembling. Your stomach twisted itself into knots again as you thought of the mission scheduled for tomorrow. Your head fell onto your arms and you groaned as you felt like throwing up once again.

“You okay?” Your head shot up so fast that your neck let out a twinge of pain and you yelped. A heavy blush flooded your face as you looked into the visored face of Soldier: 76.

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn’t force anything past the block of ice that had lodged itself in your throat. Instead, you nodded mutely and slumped down.

“Not hungry, huh?”

“N-no sir.” You managed quietly.

“Don’t call me sir.” He scolded gently, one hand going to rest on your shoulder where you were sure that he can feel you shaking. “We’re all soldiers here.”

You smiled at the sentiment before you looked down at the table once more, eyes tracing the faux wood grain. The two of you sat together in silence and you felt the trembling slow before stopping.

Maybe the mission wouldn't be so bad.

~*~

You sat in the drop ship with the rest of the team that were sent with you on the mission, slumped down in a cushioned seat attached to the wall as you watched the others laugh and joke. You were shaking again as you felt the ship fly closer and closer to the destination.

What if you messed up? What if one of your teammates were hurt or even worse, killed? What if it was your fault? Because you missed a shot, or didn’t move out of the way fast enough, or you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. What if _you_ died? Would anyone miss you? Would the team leave your bleeding and broken body on the field, to be fed on by vultures and vermin? What if you failed to complete the objective? Would you be blamed and vilified within the organization until you were fired or forced to quit? Would your country take you back? Knowing that you had failed?

You didn’t notice that your breath was coming faster and faster, cold sweat breaking out everywhere and your stomach feeling like a hurricane was roiling around inside. You dashed out of the main room of the ship and into one of the bathrooms. The acrid taste of bile rose up into your throat and out of your mouth to violently empty itself into the toilet. The puke splashed into the bowl and filled the room with its stench, which only sent you off into another session of heaving and puking.

A minute later and you staggered out of the small room, the toilet automatically flushing behind you with a rush of air and fluid. You shuddered and fell back down into your seat, acutely aware of the stares directed your way. You curled up, with your knees to your chest as you visibly shook, small choked noises coming from your throat. Eyes blown wide, you sat alone as you rode the anxiety attack out.

Maybe not alone. You felt your seat slightly shift as someone sat down in the one next to it as something settled over your shoulders. You glanced up, panicked, only to catch sight of a jacketless Soldier: 76 sitting next to you, only looking a little goofy in a t-shirt and visor. You shook some more before you took a deep breath to steady yourself. As you did, you smelled hint of the musty smell of leather and cologne as your hand went out to stroke the fabric of the garment that the old soldier had draped over you and you smiled. The man beside you stretched out an arm and wrapped it around your shoulders before he pulled you into his side.

The two of you sat like that for a few minutes before you stopped shaking and sweating before he spoke. 

“Anxious about the mission?” 76 asked, his normally gravelly voice softer and comforting, sounding so much like a father that you felt a twinge, missing your own. You nodded.

“I’m scared I’ll mess up.” You admitted with a small voice. “It’s my first mission.”

“You won’t mess up.” You glanced up at the resolve that you heard in his voice. “I’ve seen your files and videos of your training. You were leagues above the rest of your class. The second choice was much worse than you. Probably wouldn’t be able to take Hana without her mech.”

You let out a startled giggle at the thought, the small Korean only coming up to your chin and exceptionally weak in combat without her precious MEKA.

“Thanks.” The arm around your shoulders disappeared as the old soldier stood up.

“No problem. Just make sure that you give the jacket back before the mission.” Was it just you, or did his voice sound deeper than normal, as if embarrassed. You nodded as you slipped your arms through the sleeves of the several sizes too large jacket and giggled as the clothing swallowed you.

Needless to say, the mission went off without a hitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everybody! I am back with another chapter of _Helping Hands_! Whoo! Hope you guys liked it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left me kudos and commented. It means a whole bunch. Thank you.
> 
> Remember, if you want to see any of the characters from Overwatch comforting the reader, leave a comment below and I will get to it!
> 
> See you next chapter!


	3. Anger, Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You growled, your blood boiling as you paced up and down your room. Your hand twitched towards the gun holstered on your hip, but you forced the urge to shoot something down. Instead you pulled the knife from your boot and threw it. The blade buried itself in your door.

You growled, your blood boiling as you paced up and down your room. Your hand twitched towards the gun holstered on your hip, but you forced the urge to shoot something down. Instead you pulled the knife from your boot and threw it. The blade buried itself in your door. 

Your head shot up as you heard a slightly hesitant knock on the door. Wrenching it open with a growl, you saw Reaper standing there, his hand raised and his mask pointedly staring at the tip of your knife jutting out from the door. The mask turned itself to you and you almost felt the raised brows that you would no doubt find.

“What?” You snapped, glaring angrily at the holes where his eyes should be. The wraith let out a growl himself before he roughly grabbed you by the shoulder and started dragging you away. “Hey! Let me go, asshole!” 

The man ignored you and continued dragging you down the halls, only slowed slightly by your thrashing. You growled and went limp, impulsively deciding to make it as hard as possible for him. Unfortunately, he just hauled you up to drape you over his shoulder. 

You stayed like that for a moment, a little shocked, before you started to grab for his mask. A hand smacked your’s away before you could make contact with whatever the hell it was made from. You tried again and he growled before smacking your hand once again.

“Quit it.” 

“Let me down.” Instead of listening to you, like he _should_ have, he rolled you off his shoulder and, in a surprising show of agility, caught you under his arm and held you like an oversized purse. You let out a grumble and instead tried to knee him in the ass.

 _Holy shit. What the fuck is that thing made of?_ You let out a pained mewl as you tried to hold your throbbing knee. Reaper chuckled darkly and continued on his way. You calmed down a bit after that, but still felt anger boiling just underneath your skin.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked and you felt the man holding you shrug.

“Wherever the hell I feel like.” Came the slightly amused reply. You growled and fell still again. “You wanna tell me what’s eating at you?”

“No.” Silence. You twitched as you subtly bobbed in his hold. “My government’s an asshole.”

 _That_ response was gifted a full-bellied laugh from the Ex-Talon operative and you smiled, despite the slightly insane tone that it was inflected with. 

“You wanna tell me why, _culo_?” You frowned at the curse, you had spent enough time on the internet to know what that meant, but shrugged.

“They wanna pull me from Overwatch. Make me go back to working for them.”

“So?” The perceived indifference to your plight made you angrier. 

“So, I wanna stay.” You replied hotly. You felt Reaper shrug.

“Then do it.”

“But then I’ll be fired.”

“Winston would hire you again.”

“I would become a criminal in my own country.”

“And? Everything we do here is technically illegal. Interpol could march right in here with a warrant and arrest all of our asses.” The two of you fell silent as Reaper kept walking the halls. You felt the anger in you fade.

“You really think he’ll hire me again?” 

“Without a doubt.”

~*~

The holo-call cut out and you sat down at your desk, feeling numb before the feeling of white-hot anger rushed into you. It started deep in your stomach before it exploded outwards into your chest, your arms, legs, and head. You stood up so fast that the chair flew backwards and hit the wall behind you as you let out what could only be called a roar of wrath tore itself from your throat. 

Red cloaked your vision as you stormed out of your quarters, the door behind you rattling in its frame as you slammed it closed. You stomped past the common area, ignoring all of the slightly scared gazes following you. Finding yourself in the training room, you snatched a rifle from one of the racks before snapping out a command to Athena.

“Initiate horde mode. Highest difficulty. Lethal rounds.”

“I do not think that this is advisable.”

“ _Do it_.” You growled and walked out to the very center of the room, cover popping out from the ground as Athena initiated the mode that you had only tried once before swearing off of it. You had it at medium then. 

Malicious sounding whirrs and beeps sounded up from around the room. Hidden doors slip open and disgorged countless amounts of training bots, their normally blue lights a bright, blood red. A few of them popped around a corner and you blew them to bits as the various obstacles that were given to you started to shimmer before being replaced with the image of a dilapidated neighborhood. You stood up from your cover and walked out into the open, footsteps loudly crunching on the debris scattered on the floor. 

The last time you did this and made a noise, the mindless robots were on you in seconds. This time was no different.

A deafening noise of whirrs and beeps, of gears grinding together and metal slamming together. The first wave turned the corner in a flood and you let loose with your rifle, the bullets ripping through them. You felt a wall bullets fly at you in return, the white hot pieces of metal ripping past you, a couple grazing your sides and arms. You dove for cover and blindly threw a grenade where you last saw the horde. A boom shook the room and you popped out from behind a car and started firing into the bots that were left. 

A beep behind you made you whirl around, knife in hand. You jammed the blade into the exposed joint of its neck and, with a deft twist, the head popped off. You fired your rifle a bit more before it ran empty. You slammed the butt of it into the face of an enemy and you threw it down before you drew your pistol. By now the robots were surrounding you at all sides and you felt bullets pierce into you even more. 

“ ** _What are you doing?_** ” The dark tone made you flinch and all the bots crumpled to the ground, their lights falling dark. You whirled around and found yourself face to mask with Reaper. 

“What the hell!?” You shouted, the white-hot rage not dieing down in the vigorous battle. “I was _training_!” 

“ ** _You almost died_**.” The tone didn’t abate and the man’s voice sounded as if multiple people were talking all at once. A clawed hand reached out and lifted one of your arms, blood drenching it. You heard him take a deep breath before he spoke again, his tone still harsh, but losing the hellish quality. “Answer my question.”

“I. Was. _Training_.” You stressed, growling out every word, the knife and pistol still tightly held in your hands. Angry tears started to pool at the corners of your eyes, but you stubbornly held them back.

You felt a rush of anger from the man and he moved, blindingly fast with smoke streaming from his limbs as he grabbed you. You felt his hands grip the fabric of your shirt and lift you up before he slammed your back against a wall. 

“ ** _You will tell me_**.” He snarled. You flinched in fear and fell limp. The tears that you were holding back spilled onto your cheeks in hot streams of anger.

“They threatened my family.” You felt your voice threaten to waver, but you kept it strong. The hands holding you up loosened and eased you down to the ground. “I told them that I wanted to stay, and when I threatened to quit, they said that they would throw my family in jail.” 

You slid down the wall and sat with your back pressing into it. You heard Reaper step back before you heard the rustle of fabric and the ringing of a call.

“What are you doing?” You asked, staring at the man. He shrugged.

“Calling Winston. We’ll get your family out of the country on the next mission.” 

You felt numb. “How do you know he’ll agree?” 

“You ever seen him argue with me, kid?” He said with a laugh. You cracked a smile.

“Thanks, Reaper.” 

“Call me Reyes.”

~*~

There was no good feeling to describe what had just happened. You felt happy that you saved your family. You felt sad that you became an outlaw in your own country. Mostly, you were numb with no idea of what you were going to do next.

A hand jolted you away from your thoughts and you glanced up to see Reyes standing at your side. 

“You did good, _cabrito_.” He said, his once intimidating voice bringing calm to your whirling mind. A smile made its way onto your lips as you watched your family talk with your team as you all flew them to a safer place.

“Thanks, Reyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Here is another chapter! Hope you all liked it! If you have any suggestions for future chapters, leave a comment! Or PM me! Or something....   
> See ya next chapter.


	4. Exhaustion, Roadhog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, sleep did not come to you that night or the night after that and your team was starting to take notice. Mercy was eyeing you with a critical eye as you sat alone in the cafeteria, your head lolling towards the table. Just as you were about to have an intimate relationship with your bowl of cereal a large hand gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled you upright.

You felt as though cotton was shoved inside of your skull. Your thoughts were coming slow and most of the time not even coherent. Tracer was sitting next to you and presumably talking your ear off. Instinct and experience was pretty much the only thing keeping you nodding and making small noises to keep the conversation going. Unfortunately, you had gotten a very small amount sleep for the past few nights. Every time that you had lain down to sleep you felt restless and had taken to wandering towards the kitchen for a midnight snack or attending to your equipment before slumbering for only a few hours. You were certainly starting to feel the effects. You had many close calls during this mission and Mercy was pretty much attached to your hip the whole time.

Slumping down in your seat, you breathed out a sigh as you glanced around the cabin. McCree was arguing with a stubborn Hanzo, as usual, with Mercy trying to calm the duo down. It did not work, as usual. 

A heavy huff of air drew her attention to the girth of Roadhog. He was also sitting in one of the wall mounted seats and was carefully cleaning his gun, his hook propped up on the wall next to him. The tattoos on his stomach rose and fell with every breath and you stared, entranced, as the ink seemed to dance. 

A few seconds later and you felt an odd prickle on your neck and you glanced up too see Roadhog staring right back at you. You flinched a bit before you managed a sheepish smile and a wave. The large man was still for a few moments more before he raised a hand and lazily waved back. You smiled wider and leaned back more in the cushions of your seat.

~*~

Unfortunately, sleep did not come to you that night or the night after that and your team was starting to take notice. Mercy was eyeing you with a critical eye as you sat alone in the cafeteria, your head lolling towards the table. Just as you were about to have an intimate relationship with your bowl of cereal a large hand gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled you upright.

You blinked and peered up into the black lenses of Roadhog’s gas mask. A mug of coffee was in his free hand, which he set down next to you as he released your head. You stared blankly down at the drink before the man gestured to it and pointed at you. 

“... You want me to drink?” You asked, to which the massive man nodded at. You shrugged and grabbed the handle before downing the scalding drink. You hissed lowly under your breath as the liquid burned on the way down and Roadhog backed up half a step before letting out an impressed grunt. You shook as the caffeine took hold and you grinned up at the man as you set the empty mug down. 

“Tired?” You blinked in surprise at the rumbling word, the first that you had ever heard from him. 

“Um.. yeah. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Or at all. You think to yourself. Roadhog nodded before he walked away, only to come back with a tray of food. He sat himself down next to you and ate in silence, the bottom of his mask getting pulled up to reveal a scarred jaw. You shrugged before you ate too. 

~*~

“You want me to what?” You ask, staring up at the man. After breakfast, Roadhog apparently decided to follow you around for the next hour before he dragged you to one of the outdoor training areas around the base. Now the two of you were facing each other, you in your pajamas and Roadhog in a pair of shorts.

“Hit me.” Came the rumbling reply and you blinked before shrugging and sending a weak punch into his stomach. “Harder.” 

You did so and you stumbled back a step while the massive Junker stayed in place. Roadhog let out a few rumbling laughs and you blinked. Challenge accepted. You threw another punch and his laughs were cut off with a rush of air as you felt your fist sink a few inches into his girth.

“Better.” He said, his voice gaining an edge. Your eyes widened as a massive fist was sent toward you and you clumsily ducked. You’ve seen the massive junker barrel his way through a wall and, while you knew he wouldn’t hit you too hard, you still didn’t feel like getting hit. 

You spent the next few minutes dodging his blows like the world’s shittiest ballerina before you inevitably tripped over nothing. You groaned as you hit the floor like a sack of flour and made no attempt to get back up.

“Graceful.” Roadhog rumbled. You let out a low shriek into the floor in protest to the sarcasm. The large man laughed and you felt the floor shake a little as he sat down next to you. Large hands grabbed your sides and you felt yourself being picked up and being set back down on the junker’s stomach.

The body heat emanating from his skin soaked into your bones and you felt yourself give off an involuntary sigh as you fell limp.

“Wha’ ya’ doin’?” You slurred, your mind already slipping away into the realm of sleep.

“Helps ‘Rat sleep most o’ the time.” He rumbled. His stomach moved under you and, feeling oh so tired, you fell asleep.

~*~

“We gotta take a picture of this.” 

“That would be rude, McCree.” 

“I’m gonna take a picture.” 

“... Send a copy to me.” 

Voices woke you up from your slumbered and you emitted a deep, dissatisfied groan. Cracking open an eye, you spotted two figures standing a few feet away. One of which was a cowboy holding his phone out towards you. The other was Mercy, who was holding a single hand over her mouth to cover a grin.

Click!

You blinked at the sound with not a single doubt that the picture would come back to bite you in the ass later, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You didn’t nearly have enough sleep. Also, you couldn’t really move with Roadhog’s ginormous hand resting on your back.  
Resigned to your comfortable fate, you fell back asleep.


End file.
